Green and orange
by I dont live in reality
Summary: Ruffnut, having just become a mother, goes on a walk with Tuffnut


Green and orange

She looked at the child, her son, as he laid on his stomach on the rough carpet of their home. He looked up at her, eyes wide, as if wondering what she'd choose. She bent forward a little from her cross-legged position and whispered 'but you can't know, can you?' to the infant. The boy couldn't, after all, be aware of her dilemma. She'd agreed to go on a walk with her brother this afternoon. However, she cherished the moments alone with her child. She could use the excuse of a 'tired, worn out mom' again and Tuffnut would leave her alone to play with her son. She mused on this idea, looking around the comfortable house they lived in. Her husband had given it his touch, with books and ink scattered over the table. On the wall hung the scarf he'd knitted for her. Fishlegs had chosen green and orange wool for it, and she knew fully why. She hadn't worn it yet, as she wasn't out of the house much. The little boy made a sound, so she picked him up. She'd made a decision. She wouldn't let Tuffnut down.

The child was wrapped safely to her chest in the brightly coloured scarf. New Berk was flourishing at the beginning of this spring season. Some young teens jumped before her, running from each other. She was greeted as 'Mrs Ingerman' by the last of them, before they ran away. She brought a hand to the back of the infant on her chest. One day, he'd be old enough to dart around the village. Up ahead, Tuffnut waved at her. As they met, he stroked the head of the child. 'I haven't seen you two in a while. It's good to see you out.' As her brother turned away to walk into the forest, she wondered whether he meant that it was good for the boy to be out or for her to be out. His protective demeanor in that fairly simple sentence ticked her off a little. It implied she didn't have the right to stay inside whenever she pleased.

As she followed him on the path between the trees, she did realize in the few weeks of her son's life, she hadn't taken him out much. At first, it was because she had been tired, so tired. Birthing a child took its toll. Yet even after slightly recovering, she remained mostly inside with the little boy and thinking back, she couldn't figure out for the life of her why. As she now stepped rhythmically behind her brother, she breathed in the first smells of the awakening forest. That, along with her son's cheeks turning a bit rosy from the air, made her feel light and strong. She hadn't felt that way since before her pregnancy.

They made their way through the bushes with little leaves unfolding and between the tree trunks that had lost their bark to hungry animals in winter. Occasionally one twin would point out a particularly interesting detail to the other, but aside from that, they were quiet. The feeling of strength in her bones and warmth in her muscles became more prominent as they walked further and further. She was overjoyed by this feeling of clarity, when Tuffnut stopped and she almost bumped into his back. 'Why don't we take a break?' He said, looking back with an expression she couldn't quite place. Concern? She now saw he'd chosen a sunny field to stop in. He sat down and gestured for her to do the same. The boy in the green-with-orange scarf stirred against her chest and reached with his hands. She unwrapped him and handed him to Tuffnut as she sat beside them in the grass. Her pride wouldn't have her admit the fact she'd gotten fatigued from the short walk. She should go out more and regain some strength, she figured.

Her brother played with his nephew, offering his finger and talking and smiling. Her hands fell in her lap as she looked at this and realized Tuffnut would be a wondrous father one day too. They stayed in that field for a while, noticing the beauty of the island surrounding the three of them. Deep orange flowers grew in patches in the green grass. Like the scarf, they reminded her of days of flight, of youthful freedom and the strength she'd just felt coursing through her body once more. As Tuffnut handed her son to her and got up, he seemed to notice the colours too. His eyes shot from the scarf to the flowers and back, after which he smiled at her. A slow, slightly weary smile for he felt the loss of Barf and Belch the same way.

They followed a path to the cliffs, marked by stones and rocks. They were talking, about nonsensical things: those they talked best of. She hoped vigorously the boy had inherited the Thorston flair. Perhaps a little reason from his father too, the child was an Ingerman, after all.

Soon they were walking by the cliffs, high above the now calm water. An agreeable breeze sifted through her braids and renewed the feeling of flight within her. She spread her arms and fingers wide, as if to catch the measly wind and ride away on it. When a few moments had passed and she opened her eyes again, Tuffnut was looking at her. Ever amused and ready to joke, but he didn't: instead, he offered her a daring prospect. 'In two month's time I'll set sail for other islands to trade with. You could come.' She glanced meaningfully at the child on her chest, so he followed: 'The weather is kind and the ship will be comfortable. I miss the mischief, sister, please do come.' She pondered on the horizon and rubbed the back of her son. Then she shook her head, slowly, thoughtfully. 'I'll go'


End file.
